If you are reading this it means that you are still alive. Congrats on surviving another (or your first!) Welcome Week! Don’t worry; those bruises will be long gone by Parent Weekend.

It’s been a great week and we at CC Headquarters have been quite busy while all of you lucky ladies are out enjoying your last week of freedom. After all, who else was going to guide the young, innocent incoming freshmen?

Without us, they never would have known how to deal with difficult roommates, how to tell if a prof was good, how to break the ice with strangers, how to cook when all they have is a mini fridge and hotpot, what to wear to the first day of class, how to handle all the weirdness of college, and the rest of the shiz that makes up college life.

And if we were out getting our drink on, who would have taught you all you need to know about condoms? Or why you maybe shouldn’t have drunk sex?

We are like guardian angels over here. Where are our wings, damnit?

It’s amazing we even had time to catch the Democratic National Convention, or find out who McCain chose as his VP.

And now it’s over, along with our sweet, sweet summer.

Have a great Labor Day Weekend!

Since I was starting my Friday evening at a lounge with friends, I was aiming for dressy-casual as I rifled through my closet. About half an hour later, my mind was made up: leggings, dress, and of course, the new slingback stilettos in lieu of those I ruined on my last “date” (RIP, Nine West pumps. I think of you often).

I don’t feel completely dressed without a pair of heels, and I couldn’t care any less that I’m six feet tall without them. I love their ability to make my jeans look a little dressier and my legs look longer, and overall, I feel empowered in them. I love my stilettos and consider them buddies who see me through good times and bad. No matter how much my feet hurt, I know that they only want me to feel and look pretty.

This particular evening, like so many others, there was no question what shoes were making the trek downtown with me.

I was approximately two drinks and three hours into my night when my friends and I finally found a table at our second venue. Our table was in the middle of the bar, one of those that doesn’t really allow for much more than a few martini glasses. I happily pulled up a barstool without a second thought. Read More »